


silk & smoke

by 8BitSkeleton



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fingerfucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BitSkeleton/pseuds/8BitSkeleton
Summary: “Hm. I used to live like this,” Elias says. “Perpetually high. No ambitions in life.”“You? Elias Bouchard? Ambitionless? How scandalous.” Tim sways on his feet. “Which begs the question… how didyouget to the top of The Magnus Institute?”Elias’s eyes are half-lidded as he smiles. “Well. Certainly not in the way you’re thinking of. It seems as if you have an… overactive imagination.”(tim and elias are high. slight crackfic, set in very early season 1)
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Tim Stoker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	silk & smoke

**Author's Note:**

> [jay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherprince/pseuds/netherprince) and i were joking around about elias still being a pothead and we meme'd up a scenario where he'd get high with the o.g. archival crew. somehow, my brain extrapolated that memery into this fuckery. 
> 
> i'm only a little bit sorry.
> 
> (as a little note: elias is trans in this & thus his whole kit and caboodle are referred to as 'cock' and 'entrance.')

Tim doesn’t think he’s ever seen Elias slouch, much less _lounge_. And he is lounging, thrown over his expensive-looking old paisley loveseat in his office as if it was a chaise, like _aristocracy_ once used. 

He gives a low whistle, head floaty from the drugs as he looks at Elias. “Didn’t know you had it in you, boss.”

“Hm. I used to live like this,” Elias says, smoothing out the crinkles in his shirt where it’s bunched up. “Perpetually high. No ambitions in life.”

“You? Elias Bouchard? Ambitionless? How scandalous.” Tim sways on his feet, still standing by the door. “Which begs the question… how did _you_ get to the top of The Magnus Institute?”

Tim doesn’t mean to insinuate anything. But he also doesn’t… _not_ mean to. He leaves the question fairly open ended, he thinks. It’s just his damned eyebrows waggle of their own accord. 

Elias’s eyes are half-lidded as he smiles—a small, lazy gesture, his body lax against the couch cushions. “Well,” he starts. “Certainly not in the way you’re thinking of. It seems as if you have an… overactive imagination.”

“It would seem so,” Tim acquiesces. The way their eyes meet, both pairs bloodshot, makes Tim recognize exactly what this is. Exactly where this is headed. The charged heat that fills Tim in a second makes him doubt himself, like maybe he’s had too much, he’s thought about it in the wrong way.

He watches as Elias raises his hand, palm up, a loose fist, then extends a single finger before curling it inwards. The message is clear, _Come here._

Tim almost trips at the summons, steps wide and quick. He towers over Elias’s slouched form as Elias examines him clearly, eyes somehow too sharp for the drugs they’ve ingested. Tim already feels out of his depth here, even before Elias lowers his hand. 

Despite the way he’d gestured, apparently Tim hadn’t gotten the intended message. Elias repeats, insistently, “Come _here_.” 

There is no _here_ as far as Tim can tell, nowhere to sit as Elias occupies the loveseat. His only options are to sit on Elias’s lap (which is presumptuous, even for him) or kneel. Tim chooses the latter, going to his knees in a smooth motion. He lands at almost eye level with Elias, watches as Elias’s smile widens slightly, seemingly satisfied at the offering. 

“I see,” Elias says on an exhale. 

Tim doesn’t know what he _sees_ —he just wishes Elias would get to the point. Is Tim misreading this? This would be a hell of a way to get an employee review, wouldn’t it? High in the boss’s office, on his knees, waiting for— what? What’s Tim waiting for?

“Listen,” he starts, needing to know where this is going. “I—”

“No, no,” Elias cuts in. “I think I understand. This won’t affect the way I see or treat you. You’ll still be a respectable employee, regardless of what happens here. But… if you would like to… I am open to the possibility of intercourse.”

That gets an incredulous scoff out of Tim. _Intercourse_. Really? How old is Elias again? 

“Yeah,” he answers, despite his scoff. “I’m also open to it right now. But not if you refer to it as _that_.”

“Oh, my mistake,” Elias tuts. “Would you prefer if I asked you if you would like to fuck, Tim?”

The way he says it makes a thrill run up Tim’s spine. He realizes he’s never heard Elias curse. It’s an occasion to mark, ranking high up on Tim’s list of memorable moments. Almost as high as being offered to have no strings attached sex with your boss. 

He’s not the most coherent as he says, “Yeah, alright.” 

It doesn’t seem to matter to Elias, who surges up to connect their lips, hand landing on the back of Tim’s neck. Tim lets himself be pulled over the couch, catching himself on the back of it so as not to crush Elias. His arms bracket the older man, kiss deepening as they press closer together, growing sloppy with need, the haze of the drugs fuzzing over the edges of their actions. 

Their breaths grow short as the kiss grows insistent and Tim takes a moment to pull back and kiss down Elias’s neck. The fucker’s tie is still done up but the top button underneath has been opened. Tim smirks to himself. “Oh, the first button’s undone already? How lewd, Mr. Bouchard.”

Elias hums, as if he doesn’t have the capacity to acknowledge Tim’s joke—or it just wasn’t a good joke. Whatever, Tim still giggles to himself as he presses an open mouth kiss onto Elias’s jugular. The action makes Elias hiss and reach up to unbutton his second, then third button. He leaves the tie in place but Tim can take a hint. He loosens the tie, freeing it from the collar and gets back to work on Elias’s neck. He leaves a train of sloppy kisses down to his collarbone, sneaking in bites which make Elias’s hisses come more frequently. He notes the undershirt Elias wears, a low necked vest he’s only imagined seeing beneath his immaculate white pressed shirts, now suddenly starkly real and in his field of view. He lays a nonsensical kiss to the fabric of the collar and trails lower, leaving the rest of the shirt buttoned as he shifts, drawing back to land his hands on Elias’s waist. 

He feels his parched mouth begin to wet itself at the idea of using it on Elias. He trails his hands lower, fingers toying with the belt, smooth under his touch, and no doubt worth more money than Tim makes in a month. “May I?”

“Oh, please. I insist.” The lazy smile turns self-satisfied as he speaks, shifting under Tim’s hands so as to allow him easier access. 

“You’re the boss, boss,” Tim thinks the cheeky grin he gives is the best in his arsenal. Somehow, Elias seems unaffected, giving a half-hearted roll of his eyes before focusing back on Tim. 

Tim’s hands move smoothly, unbuckling the belt and undoing the button with practiced ease. Before he pulls any fabric away, though, he leans into the space between Elias’s thighs, reveling in the warmth. He lays a kiss onto Elias’s inner thigh, trailing it up and over Elias’s crotch and down the other side. The action makes Elias hum long and low, a sort of satisfied noise, and he shifts further down, making a place for Tim to settle down comfortably between his legs. 

For a moment, Tim considers teasing him through his properly pressed slacks, laving them with kisses and licks, getting them properly messy, but the train of thought is cut short by Elias landing an impatient hand to the crown of Tim’s head. He pulls on Tim’s hair subtly enough to press Tim onward, to get the show on the road. Tim hums in response, laying one last open mouthed kiss onto Elias before he slips his hands over the waistband of Elias’s pants and starts to pull them down. 

“Wait.”

Tim looks to Elias, his hands slipping off him, ready to stop if asked to. Elias says nothing as he reaches down and into the pocket on his slacks, pulling out what’s left of the joint and his lighter. He holds the joint up to his lips, not yet putting it into his mouth when he realizes Tim still hasn’t moved. 

“That was all. You may continue.” The smile he gives Tim is brief, a mirth shining in his eyes. Tim ignores the self-satisfied look on his face and instead gets to work, pulling down his slacks and pants in one go. 

He glances up when he hears the spark of the lighter and watches the flames illuminate the sharp planes of Elias’s face. Elias inhales the smoke deeply and holds it in his lungs. Tim doesn’t wait for him to exhale before leans in and licks a broad stripe over his entrance and cock, tongue flat against him. Above him, he hears Elias punch out a breath, sees smoke fill his field of view. He doesn’t pause, just goes back down and licks again, slower this time, tracing the edges of Elias’s entrance carefully. 

Tim knows he’s good with his mouth, if he had a nickel and all that. He doesn’t need the hitch of Elias’s breath to tell him that. All he needs is to focus himself on his rhythm, circling around his entrance until he feels the hand of impatience land on his head again, this time insistent. Elias pulls him up to his neglected cock and holds him there, sending a message. Tim can’t help but oblige, lips closing around Elias’s cock and hollowing his cheeks, sucking hard. His tongue flicks the head of it and his eyes look up to see Elias take another inhale of his quickly fading joint just as a shiver overtakes him. 

Tim doubles down on his efforts, releasing the suction but applying himself on the pressure, tongue laid flat over Elias long enough to make him impatient before he circles again, relentless in the way he works Elias over. 

Elias exhales another puff of smoke, making Tim’s eyes sting with it, and he breathes in deep though his nose, the smell of Elias mixing with the smell of the joint into an intoxicating assault. He can tell Elias is on the edge of breaking his composure by the way he exhales, shakily, almost on the edge of a moan. Tim resolves himself to make Elias elicit _some_ kind of noise that makes Tim know he’s enjoying this. 

Despite the hand on his head, he pushes back, licking back down to taste Elias’s wetness, making sure he can do this. Elias pulls him back up, patience obviously running thin and once again, Tim goes without a complaint. 

He brings up a hand, finger trailing up Elias’s thigh and to his entrance teasing there for a second, letting Elias decide if he wants to say no. What he gets is an enthusiastic thrust of the hips, asking for Tim’s finger with a soft, “Yes.”

Tim enters Elias slowly, feeling a little satisfied that he even got so much as an assent from Elias. As he starts thrusting his finger slowly, testing the waters, Elias hums out a sigh and Tim takes that as another encouraging noise. He speeds up his thrusts, adding a second finger as he redoubles the efforts of his tongue, circling Elias’s cock, dipping down, flattening it against him until he feels Elias rise to meet his movements. Something in him shines with pride at the response and he doesn’t let up, rhythm steady and constant. 

It isn’t long until he hears Elias shudder out a breath, the end of it punctuated by a quiet and broken, “Fuck.” 

The word spurs him on, knowing it’s game-set-match here, and his movements turn sloppy with it, mouth open as he devotes himself to the task at hand fully. The wet sounds of his fingers in Elias, of his mouth on Elias are obscene in his ears and the world narrows down to making him come, to making him break. 

He gets his wish a second later and he almost misses the low and broken moan Elias releases as he shudders under Tim’s ministrations. 

“Oh,” Elias moans. “Oh, _yes_ —” His hand grips Tim’s hair, pulling hard. He feels the clench of Elias on his fingers as he comes, hips thrusting into his face, riding the waves against Tim’s tongue. Tim lets himself be used, relishing in the feeling of it, of being made an utter mess by his partner.

He breathes through his nose as Elias’s grip eases slowly, body relaxing back onto the loveseat. When he’s released, he leans back to survey the mess _he’s_ made of Elias. 

It’s the most disheveled he’s ever seen the man. His once-pristinely ironed shirt sits half undone and wrinkled on his chest, which heaves with heavy breaths. His tie is nowhere to be found, his pants and slacks are slung around one ankle, his belt on the floor next to Tim. 

Tim feels himself straining in his jeans at the sight of it and Elias’s half-lidded eyes miss nothing. He beckons to Tim again, much like the gesture that started this entire affair, and Tim sits up without question. 

Elias brings the remnants of the barely smoking joint to his lips and inhales one last time. Tim leans in to shotgun from him but he’s stopped short of it by the hand Elias throws up in front of his mouth. He lowers his hand after he’s sure Tim’s got the message and exhales, forcing the smoke into Tim’s eyes and nose. He coughs at the offending sensation and leans back on his heels again.

Elias clears his throat politely. “Thank you for your, ah, services. I think you’d better go and take care of that yourself.” 

Ouch. He’s been kicked out before but never in the middle of it. Unless, to Elias, that _was_ the event? Tim makes a mental note of it and files away Elias’s barely restrained smile to remind himself to not do this again if this is how it’s going to be. 

Still, he finds it in him to flash his best and most winning smile as he stands. “No prob, boss. Glad to have helped.” He turns to leave. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He pauses at the door to wipe at his mouth and he can feel Elias watching him straighten himself up before he faces the world again. For a second, he feels the urge to leave Elias’s door open, so the rest of the institute can see the mess he is, still sitting pantsless in his seat.

Instead, he straightens his shoulders and slips out and to the bathroom where he hopes he won’t be caught. 

**Author's Note:**

> [i'm on twitter!](https://twitter.com/ncvacorps)


End file.
